The Aftermath: George's story
by PhantomRaven666
Summary: The story of how George copes with Fred's death.
1. Chapter 1

_"No - no - no!" I shouted "No! Fred! no!" _

I wake with a start. My forehead is soaked with sweat, as are my entire pyjamas. It has been just over a month since Fred... passed away. There isn't a single moment when I don't think about him. Every moment is agony without him. There is a big, gaping void inside of me. Every night I wake up, drenched in perspiration. Every night I have the same excruciating dream, reliving the moment when half of me died.

I was about fifteen metres away, fighting a masked Death Eater when the wall exploded. I looked over at the sound of the explosion, just in time to see a lump of stone fly out and hit Fred. I cried out, rushing towards him but the Death Eater cast a spell at me, knocking me off of my feet. In my shock and desperation, I leaped to my feet and roared the Killing Curse at him. A flash of green light shot out of my wand and he dropped onto the ground. I'd just used an Unforgivable Curse. Dark magic. But I didn't have time to take it in; all that mattered in that moment was Fred.

I ran towards him, tears streaming down my face. I couldn't see him at first, buried under a huge pile of rubble. Percy was standing next to me, speechless and staring, frozen. "WHY AREN'T YOU DOING SOMETHING?" I roared. I slashed my wand violently through the air and the rubble rolled away from Fred. I crouched down next to Fred and put my wand on the floor next to him.

"Fred, are you okay?" I sobbed, holding his face in my hands. His body was limp and he had several cuts and bruises on his face. "Fred!" I cried, shaking him. Nothing.

Percy came and knelt down with me. He reached out a hand and felt for a pulse on Fred's neck. Again, nothing. He shook his head and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off, angrily. "YOU COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING!" I screamed at him. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! WHY DID YOU JUST STAND THERE?"

Percy looked at me sadly. "I'm sorry, George. I knew he was gone. There's no way he could have survived something like that."

I shook my head, refusing to believe it. He could have done something. This should not have happened. Not to Fred. Not to someone as kind and funny as him. He was always so jolly and cheery; seeing him lying on the stone floor, limp and lifeless: not even a hint of a smile on his face, I just- I just couldn't believe it was happening.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, I didn't know what to do or where to go. I couldn't go back to our shop because well, it was _ours: _it belonged to _us_ but now there was no _us_, just me. I couldn't go back to the Burrow because there were far too many memories of him. I just lay, motionless with his body.

Several hours passed until Angelina came and kneeled next to me. "It's late," she said gently. "You should get some sleep."

"I don't need to sleep," I croaked.

"Well at least come and get something to eat."

"I don't need to eat."

Angelina sighed. "George, I don't mean to be insensitive - I'm devastated at Fred's death too - but well, the bodies are being removed now. You're going to need to come away now."

I shook my head, clinging to my dead twin's body.

She chewed her lip anxiously. "George, please. You can't stay here for ever."

"Yes I can," I replied hoarsely.

She held out a hand to me and I sat up, leaning against her, sobbing. She wrapped an arm around me and kissed the top of my head.

I did leave him eventually but I knew it was the last time I'd ever see him again. I don't believe in heaven or any kind of afterlife. I wish I could: then I'd believe that I'd see George again. But I just don't believe. You only live once. That's what I believe. Only George didn't get to live long at all.

I stayed at Angelina's house for several days. She lived by herself, from what few things she had told me, she didn't get on well with her parents and moved out as soon as she could.

For the majority of my stay, I just laid in the bed of her spare bedroom, refusing to eat and struggling to sleep. I had many visitors but Angelina turned them all away, telling them I wasn't ready for visitors.

Angelina was great. Though I was too distraught to show it, I really appreciated all that she was doing to help me. She didn't try to get me to talk about Fred, she just let me wallow in my sadness. She brought me water and soup - which I refused to have more than a spoonful of. She hugged me and let me cry on her shoulder and never once seemed too busy or unwilling to look after me.

She didn't make me happy - the only thing that would make me happy would be Fred coming back - but she made me feel less alone and I really did appreciate it.

Whenever I went into the bathroom, I couldn't bear to look in the mirror as it was like looking at him and knowing that he was dead- it was just all too painful. Now, whenever I look into a mirror, I feel a pang of sadness but also a slight feeling of comfort. Sometimes I can kid myself that's he's still here, still with me but when I look away from the mirror, I am dragged back into the harsh reality and it hurts. It really hurts. Because he's gone and he's never coming back.


	2. Chapter 2

Now I live in the shop. _Our_ shop. It will always be ours. I wasn't sure at first whether to re-open it or not but I eventually decided that Fred would have wanted it to remain open. Angelina talked me into it. She pointed out that all of our work to make all of our Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products would be moot if I just closed the shop. So I didn't.

Ron comes and helps me out some days. It's nice to have someone to take some of the work load off. We don't talk much to eachother. It's not as if it's _awkward_ between us, it's just that we both have a shield of sadness and loss around us which keeps us isolated from each other. The days just seem to drag by. I often get people coming up and giving me thier condolonces or simply a friendly pat on the shoulder or a small, understanding smile. I know it's supposed to make me feel better but all it does is make me feel worse. It just reminds me of Fred and brings me close to tears.

I stumble into the bathroom, my head spinning from head rush and sadness. I lean against the sink, staring into the mirror at my reflection. I look terrible. My red hair is tousled and damp with sweat and my face is white.

"What's up, Fred? You don't look so well," I say to my reflection. A laugh - which is more like a spasm of grief - escapes me and I shake my head. No matter how much I try and kid myself, it's just me in the room and it's me that I'm looking at in the mirror. I wish I was the one who had died, I thought to myself. I wish It had been me who was killed my the explosion. I suddenly feel a pang of guilt. How selfish of me. What I want Fred to go through all of this pain? No, of course not; I wouldn't wish this upon anyone.

I look away from the mirror and lower my head, my hands clinging to the side of the basin. I close my eyes and tears slip out. I thought the pain would have stopped by now or at least wouldn't be as bad as this. This wasn't fair.

The shop opens at 10:00 and it's 05:00 now. I don't want to go back to sleep: I know I'll just have the same nightmare.

(Chapter not yet finished)


End file.
